


I'll Be Your French Maid

by Miss_L



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Slash, Smut, Wade looks pretty and hot in that dress, shut up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter really wants Wade to trust him enough to take his suit off. However, the consequences are somewhat... Unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from Ashlee Simpson's song _La La._

It took all of Peter’s patience and skills of persuasion to get Wade to take away his various defences. Most notably, his suit. Of course, Spider-Man would never bother with Deadpool – sure, they had their epic sass-fights and whatnot, sometimes they would even team up, but friendship? No. 

Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, however, was an entirely different story. Peter suspected that behind the mask was a deeply unhappy, but genuinely good man (despite his homicidal character), and he wanted nothing more than to get to know that person. Even if Wade himself didn't believe that person to exist. But it was always the suit. And if he wasn't wearing his suit, his holographic projector would make an appearance – even his bare arms were covered in illusion. 

Still, Peter was making progress. Wade would let him shake his calloused hand when on a day out in civilian clothes. After a few weeks of DVD and hot-dog evenings, he started taking off the gloves of his suit. But it was not enough. It was never enough. He needed to see Wade’s face. And not just like that one time Deadpool got really cross and pulled off his mask to scare Spider-Man away (which hadn't worked, for the record). No, he needed to really _look_ at Wade. But he wouldn't push.

“Hey, Wade, what are you up to tonight?” He sounded cheerier on the phone than he actually felt – exam results had come in and somehow, he had managed to flunk not one, but two subjects. Not a big deal in se, he could still easily catch up in the summer, but Peter Parker wasn't used to failure. Not in science class, at least, something he understood much better than human interactions. Hell, even being Spider-Man was usually harder than physics!

“Not much… What did you have in mind?”

“Dunno… DVD and pizza at my place?”

“Ummm… Yea, look, Spidey, it’s laundry day and I don’t have anything to wear. Also, my projector broke and I’ve still not been able to locate the right parts. How ‘bout some other time?”

“Yeah, sure… Raincheck.”

Wade must have heard the sadness in Peter’s voice, because he sighed and said, with mock-resignation in his voice, “Fine, you can come over. I'm not getting rid of you, am I?”

“Nope!” Peter shouted cheerily, “I'm sticking to you like… Well, a spider?” A booming laugh was his only response before the merc disconnected.

When the doorbell rang, Wade contemplated to just pretend he wasn't there, but he couldn't honestly leave Spidey out in the cold – especially not with those pizza boxes in his hands. So he braced himself and opened the door.

“I hope you hate pizza, because I'm starving!” Peter chirped excitedly at him. Wade rolled his eyes under his only clean mask – this was going to be a long afternoon.

“Come on in, web-headed freak. Make yourself at home, but don’t even think about making a web in the corner.”

“Ha. Ha,” was the dry reply behind him as he led the way into the living room. 

Peter had never been to the Deadhut before. Well, Deadhut 2.0 – Deadpool was never that original with pet names. They usually hung at Peter’s apartment, or in the park, or went to see a movie (no homo). Wade’s place was… Nice, actually.

“It’s much cleaner than I’d imagined,” Peter blurted out. It wasn't neat – the home of a bachelor who values beautiful guns above beautiful drapes wouldn't be – but it was quite tidy all the same. Wade chuckled.

“Yeah, that skin condition I have? Dust and filth makes it worse.” He flopped down on the couch, pulling his fluffy dressing gown closed around him and putting his pink bunny slippers-clad feet on the more or less empty coffee table. Peter finally looked at his host. He was wearing a mask, and even his collar, but otherwise it was just Wade. And what Parker could see of his skin, was really not that bad. Sure, the scars and tumours looked quite gruesome, and it didn't help much that they were shifting as the healing process kicked in and another patch of dead skin would fall off every now and then. But overall, it just looked like _really_ bad eczema, and Peter knew enough people with that skin condition not to be fazed by it. He joined Wade on the couch.

The merc visibly cringed and rolled his gown’s collar up as far as it went, but Peter stopped his ministrations with a soft hand on a hard bicep. “Don’t. You look just fine.” He tried to inflict his tone with enough sincerity, but he didn't want to overdo it. After a couple of agonising seconds, Wade relaxed a little and picked up the remote.

“So, anyway, I have X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and though they've made a horrible job of representing me, it’s still kinda entertaining, or Avatar. Which one do you want to watch?” Peter had no idea what Wade had just said, so he mumbled something that vaguely sounded like assent and opened the pizza box. Wade turned the TV on, then reached for a slice, but stopped.

“I won’t look,” Peter said quietly, then pushed the box towards the other man. He could feel Wade roll up his mask and gulp down the food, but he was true to his word. He kept his eyes trained on the screen, which was now rapidly being filled with blue humanoids. Apparently, they were watching Avatar.

Half-way the movie, Wade started to move about uncomfortably. It got worse, so Peter paused the DVD and turned to his friend. “What’s wrong?”

“Cotton. Makes me itchy. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s not fine. Don’t you have anything else to wear? I don’t know, you can wrap yourself in silk sheets for all I care, if you have them.”

Wade looked at him – as far as he could make out through the mask – quizzically, then scratched his neck with a terrifying dry rustle.

“No, I don’t have silk sheets. I have a pink dress,” he mused. Peter giggled. “What?” Wade snapped. “It’s a very pretty dress!”

“I believe you.” Peter was trying very hard to keep his face serious. “But pink clashes with red, and the slippers are already bad enough. So, unless you take off your mask – _no_ pink dresses.”

Wade fairly whined, but had to agree that the colour-coordination would be rubbish.

“Hey, do you still have that maid’s outfit you wore that one time?” The web-head couldn't believe he was asking that question, but in all fairness, that dress had looked good on Deadpool’s toned body – his buff pectorals filled out the chest-part nicely and his waist was just thin enough to make the corset look- Wait, where did all that come from?? Peter cleared his throat awkwardly – luckily, Wade was too busy with scratching like crazy to notice.

“Yeah, I do. But it’s kinda short and I don’t have a suit on hand.”

_What does he m-? Oh, worried about his legs._

“Stockings?” Now, even Wade looked up in surprise. “I mean,” Peter mumbled, blushing, “Isn't that what ladies wear?” He was _so_ dead… But Wade perked up and beamed. 

“Yep, can do!” He jumped up and disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Peter to contemplate getting a CAT-scan.

Wade re-appeared a short while later. For the first time since they became slightly more than acquaintances, Peter was utterly speechless. No man had any right to look _this_ good in a silly dress and – oh God – stockings! The merc was still wearing his bunny slippers, which somehow looked good as part of the combo. And now that his neck and shoulders were bare, the collar of his suit looked… Delectable on his muscled neck. 

Peter was unaware of getting up, but suddenly he was standing in front of the slightly taller man, running his hand along the hem of the dress gingerly. It was a really fine material, and Wade seemed to be more comfortable. And it was ridiculous how at ease he was in women’s clothes. In fact, despite a bigger expanse of visible skin, the merc was radiating a confidence that was quite intoxicating. Peter’s hands travelled down the corset and towards the underside of the dress. 

Without any conscious command to or from his brain, he hitched the material up a little and put his hand on Wade’s uneven hip. The merc was watching on, as if mesmerised, not making any attempt to stop his friend’s wandering limb. Peter groaned when his hand brushed against something that felt like lacey string – garters? – and came to rest on silk underwear. His mind suggested a colour – pink, to match the slippers – and his eyes rolled back in his head as he bit back another moan.

Finally, his brain snapped at him. Peter stepped back hastily, panting a little, ignoring the blush that was creeping up his neck and cheeks now. Wade was still staring at him wordlessly.

“Right. Okay. Wade… Don’t ever wear that around me again. I… I have to go.” He wasn't exactly shouting, but the tempo at which the words tumbled out of his mouth was impressive. He turned around to go, too embarrassed to keep looking at his friend.

“But you told me to wear it!” Wade shouted after him.

“Well, I… I changed my mind,” Peter supplied over his shoulder. “Have to go. Kay, bye!”

The door slammed before Wade could say anything else. He walked to the couch slowly and flopped down. His brain refused to assess what had just happened, so he pulled the second pizza towards him and opened the lid. Then he looked down at the white lace of the dress and cursed out loud. Fuck. He didn't want to get pizza all over it. Back to change then.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter managed to avoid Wade entirely for a couple of weeks, but then the mercenary turned up on his patrol and saved his life, so Spidey really didn't have an excuse not to return his calls anymore. They fell back into their comfortable bromance soon enough and the dress incident was never mentioned again.

Peter was more careful with what he wished for now, but he still rejoiced at every little concession Deadpool made to reveal his “true” identity further. His incessant rambling became more personal, he shared things with Peter he had obviously not shared with many people before, and he would let the web-head see him, even when his costume hung in rags off his body and he was hurt and miserable. He still didn't take off the mask, however.

They were sitting in a park, sipping hot chocolate to keep them warm – Wade had finally fixed his projector – when the merc cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Hey… Can you come over to my place tomorrow?” Peter wasn't used to the Merc-with-a-Mouth being shy, and frowned. Wade hastened to reassure him. “Nothing… Serious. Just… You know…. Warmer than outside?” His friend relaxed and nodded with a smile, pushing away memories of the last time he was in Wade’s apartment.

“Okay. Ummm… Three-ish?” He still had some homework to get finished.

“Sure,” Wade chirped, got up and stretched. “I must be off now. See ya tomorrow!”

“Yeah. Bye, Wade.” He returned the projection’s smile and watched the man walk away swiftly. Damn, now he was curious about what his friend had in mind…

\---

When Wade opened the door, Peter groaned and made to leave.

“Wait!” the merc shouted desperately. “Please,” he added softly.

Peter huffed and faced him again, anger and confusion distorting his features. “You’re wearing the dress. What did we say about the dress?”

“I know.” Wade looked down in remorse, and Peter would almost believe he was sorry, except he probably wasn't. “But… I need to tell you something, well, show you something. And… Well, this dress gets you in a good mood… Well, a favourable mood… Eh…” He was suddenly out of words, and Peter felt his heart melt. He sighed.

“Fine. Five minutes, and if you haven’t given me a good reason for the outfit before then, I'm out.”

A happy smile was his only response as he followed his friend inside. Wade was wearing the same dress and slippers, but the stockings, to Peter’s great dismay and embarrassed arousal, were fishnets this time. The thin weaved strings made almost symmetrical patterns together with the scars on Wade’s legs, and Parker found himself resisting the urge to lick them. Great. So much for heterosexuality and self-control. _Shit._

He flopped down on the sofa and looked straight ahead of him, even when he felt Wade sit down gingerly, as far away as he could without falling off the couch. He cleared his throat a few times, but Peter refused to shift his gaze off the old TV-set – the other man had once told him that he preferred the image to that on a flat screen. Seeing how the humming didn't do the job, Wade finally spoke.

“Peter. I… I appreciate you sticking around, you know. Being my… Friend.” The uncertainty in his voice pierced Spidey’s heart, and he finally looked at his companion – trying to ignore the dress that had hitched up a bit when he sat down – but his mouth was still set in a thin line. “Look, I'm… I'm just gonna… Take my mask off, okay? Try… Try not to puke, please, I kinda like the couch.” The merc's humorous chuckle came out strained. His scarred hands went to his neck to undo the collar, but Peter stopped him.

“Keep it on. It’s nice.” Parker gulped audibly at his own words, but neither man said anything after that. Slowly, Wade pulled the spandex off, and cast his eyes down, scared to see derision and disgust on that oh-so-handsome face opposite him. Peter raised one hand, then hesitated.

“May I?” he asked timidly. Wade looked the web-head in the eyes and nodded. Soft flesh contacted gingerly with scar-tissue and the merc shut his eyes in shock. He couldn't believe it. He was hallucinating. Yes, that was it. There was no way in _Hell_ Peter Parker, _the_ Spider-Man-with-the-sassy-mouth-and-perfect-butt Peter Parker, would ever touch his ugly face like that. But the hand was still there when he opened his eyes again, a quiet and reassuring weight. Peter’s thumb stroked his cheek and the boy smiled. Wade groaned and finally allowed himself to melt into the sensation.

There was a hunger in Peter’s eyes which, by all means, should never be in anyone’s eyes when they’re looking straight at Wade’s unmasked face. The merc frowned. “What?” Peter shook his head.

“Nothing,” he rasped. _Dry mouth? Interesting…_ “You… You look really nice in that dress.” Peter cursed his blabbering mouth, but considering the pleasantly surprised look on his friend’s face, Wade didn't mind. _Oh, to hell with it._ Watching intently for any negative reaction, Peter closed the distance between them and brushed his lips ever so gently against chapped ones. Nothing. At _all._ He pulled back again with a frown, apology at the ready, but Wade must have finally realised that this was _real_ and _happening,_ because he put his big yet tender hands on Peter’s shoulders and scooted a little closer, before gluing their lips together. 

_I wonder,_ Peter considered through the lustful fog in his usually so sharp brain, _If I can still pretend to be straight if I say “no homo.”_ To be honest, he no longer cared.


	3. Chapter 3

Wade was slumped against the back of the couch, Peter half-lying on his chest, caressing his hip with an unsteady hand. Seeing the merc undone like this did unspeakable things to Spidey’s nether regions, and being the cause almost drove him mad. His fingers found the silk knickers like the last time, and brushed tentatively over Wade’s straining (literally - _oh God…)_ erection. A steady string of moans and curses dissipated around Peter’s tongue. He broke the kiss, but before his friend – lover? – had time to complain, he started nibbling at Wade’s neck, cataloguing the approximate placement of scars as he went along. He somehow managed to get his free hand between the tight collar and the merc’s deliciously pumped sternocleidomastoid muscle. He pulled and nibbled and stroked, reducing the man under him to a puddle of goo and delicious noises.

Wade slithered further down the sofa, dress catching on the leather and revealing an oh-so-enticing sight. Peter’s mouth went entirely dry – it was bad enough that Wade looked good in a _dress_ , he wasn't allowed to look _even better_ out of it. The web-head bit hard on Wade’s shoulder in response, and oh, the _shout _it got him went straight to his cock (and spank-bank for later reference).__

__“Oh God, Peter, Pete, pleasepleaseplease…” Wade wasn't sure what the Hell he was even begging for, but it didn't matter. He wanted it _all,_ three days ago, in twofold, please and thank you muchly, oh God, oh God, _oh God, right there, yessssss!__ _

__Peter smirked against Wade’s arched neck, but took pity and finally palmed his friend’s huge cock through the silk. Muscled hips buckled hard against his hand, thank fuck for superstrength, or Spidey would have probably been up against the ceiling. His slowed-down mind suggested compassionately that Wade might not have gotten laid for quite some time _(“No woman in her right mind would touch me with a stick”_ were his exact words) and to get on with it already. _ _

__He relocated to his knees on the floor and pushed Wade’s legs apart a little. He had never done it with a guy before, but he was trying to use the blow-jobs he himself had received at some point as a reference. Peter kept stroking Wade through the fabric as he contemplated a plan of action. The knickers would have to go – thankfully, no garters today. What then? Another desperate noise from his friend silenced the voice of reason, and he hooked his fingers under the elastic of the pink garment and looked up at Wade questioningly. A nod and a wail told him all he wanted to know._ _

__The merc was babbling now, making even less sense than usual, so Peter tuned out the words and focused on the tone. So far, it was very eager. He smirked to himself as he pulled the panties down slowly. Wade lifted up his legs, strong muscles shifting beautifully under his skin, but Spider-Man liked to tease, and took his time. Wade wailed again, and Peter finally threw the knickers somewhere in a corner. Unclothed, his length looked even more impressive, and the youngster decided that Wade must've been quite the ladies’ man when he didn't yet look like a “potato that went through a meat-grinder twice” (another direct quote)._ _

__“Petey, honey, please, just touch me… _Please!”__ _

__“Well, since you've asked so nicely…” the boy teased, but his brain was fogging over again at the debauched sights and sounds and smells and oh dear, when did his moth and hands start moving of their own accord? It didn't take him long to wrap his tongue and fingers around Wade’s cock, appreciative moaning spurring him on. Wade was babbling something unintelligible again, fisting Peter’s hair so hard, the youngster thought that he must be missing at least half of it by now, but it was too sensual a feeling to ask Wade to stop. Not that he would able to, it wasn't polite to talk with one’s mouth full, after all._ _

Wade was writhing again; his pelvis effectively pinned down by one of Peter’s hands and he didn't get enough friction, enough heat, enough _anything_ , really. _Just a little more, Pete, please._ The web-head must have been a mind-reader, because he sped up his various well-coordinated movements, even providing some deep-throat, which drove Wade completely insane.

“Peter, oh God, Petey, yes, that’s the sp- Oooooooh! I'm gonna-” _No, not yet! The sex, the Peter, I can’t-_ Again, his thoughts were too loud, because the boy hummed softly, the vibrations around his dick making Wade look up at him (and he honestly didn't remember the last time it was this hard to keep his eyes open). There was this look in his beautiful brown eyes, a… Request? Plea? For the first time since forever, somebody was actually eager to please him, and oh, if that wasn't the most beauteous thing in the world… Wade didn't get to contemplate for long, as a white-hot and delicious orgasm ripped through his body and shut his ever-milling brain down. It. Was. _Perfect._

Coming back to Earth slowly - _I don’t remember dying violently again?_ \- Wade was met with a grinning face. It took him a moment to place the face – the smile was too wicked to be that of an angel, so it must be a man, but… Oh right, Peter! The voices that usually supplied additional information were still out of service, but he knew Peter… He was Spider-Man, and he had the most beautiful doe-eye and the softest, most wicked mouth in the universe and he had just… 

__“Oh.”_ _

__Peter frowned at this simple syllable. Not exactly what he’d expected to hear after sending someone to seventh heaven with just his mouth. Well, okay, his hands had helped, but still… Wade’s blissful-slowly-going-vigilant face had a concerned expression, and he didn't like tha- The angsty thoughts whirring around his great big squishy genius brain halted as the merc grabbed Peter’s neck and pulled him into a semen-flavoured, but still very nice and hot kiss._ _

__“Don’t look so worried, Pete,” Wade said with a smile as he pushed aside the hem of his friend’s T-shirt and bit his neck lightly. “I just realised I would really like to return the favour.”_ _

__“... Oh.”_ _


End file.
